


Worth Remembering

by theimprobable1



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: F/M, Zurich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 06:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2841059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimprobable1/pseuds/theimprobable1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*ZURICH SPOILERS*</p>
<p>"Actually, Theresa, I, um ... I had an idea in bed last night."</p>
<p>"I remember."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth Remembering

Martin turns his captain’s hat in his hands wistfully. It’s not really a captain’s hat anymore, is it? Because he’s no longer a captain. Soon, he’ll no longer call this tiny attic bedroom home either. Instead, it will be a one-bedroom flat on the outskirts of Zurich, a city where he knows nobody and doesn’t even speak the language. (Although Theresa has been very encouraging of his attempts to learn German, and he thinks he’s making progress. It’s Theresa’s native language, after all, so he’s trying.)

Thinking of Theresa (who’s currently taking a shower, because she agreed to stay here, in Martin’s horrible shared house, so that she could be with him tomorrow at the auction, and Martin can’t still quite wrap his head around the fact that it’s real. That she’s real.) … He stretches on the bed, staring at the slated ceiling. Despite her astonishing willingness to date a penniless pilot, Theresa is still a princess. Princess of a small country with no national airline… Perhaps she could… Would it be too forward of him to ask…? Then they could all move to Switzerland, and everything would be fine, Douglas wouldn’t have to look for another job, Carolyn would still have her company…

His train of thought is interrupted when Theresa comes in, her hair damp, wrapped in a fluffy dressing gown. She gives him a smile, and Martin’s heart stutters. (Is it ever going to stop doing that?)

“Listen, Theresa,” he says, sitting up again and looking down at the hat in his hands. He might as well try now. “I had an idea…”

“Did you now, _Captain_?”

He looks up at her, finding she’s taken off her dressing gown to reveal a… is that a nightie? It’s very… short and… sort of… see-through…

“What was your idea?” she asks as she crosses the room and stops in front of him.

Martin gulps. He doesn’t remember ever having any ideas at all. She’s standing so close that he can discern the darker shade of her nipples through the flimsy material of the… that is, she’s standing so close he has to crane his neck to look at her face. Her face! That’s what he’s looking at! Although, in fact, he _is_ allowed to look elsewhere. Theresa _wants_ him to look elsewhere, even. And touch. Oh God. He’s probably supposed to—

“Martin,” Theresa says, softly. That this is it, this tone voice, that’s what always, always, makes him stop worrying, because if she can say his name like that then everything must be all right. He lets out a breath and reaches for her, her skin warm and soft under his fingers. She removes the hat from his lap where he’s forgotten about it, placing it on the bedside table.

“I think…” Martin says – well, half-squeaks, half-croaks, but who cares? – as she straddles his thighs and his hands come up to her hips of their own accord.

“Yes?” she prompts him, bending her head down towards his, her breath ghosting over his lips.

“I think I… I’d quite like _you_ to be the—the captain.”

“Oh really?” she raises an eyebrow at him, her smile wicked. “You’d like that, would you?”

“Ye-es,” his breath hitches as she moves her hips in a slow, sweet circle. He tries reaching for her mouth, but she doesn’t quite let him.

“Hmm. But I think I’d be quite a… _demanding_ captain. Are you ready for that? I’d require…” she takes pity on him, finally pressing her lips to his, “… _obedience_.” She whispers the word into his mouth, and she doesn’t move out of his reach so he kisses her again, muffling any undignified noises he might have made. 

“Yes,” he gets out between kisses, already completely drunk on her, the feel and smell of her, right here, in his arms.

“Good,” she purrs, sending a shiver down his spine. “Then listen carefully.”


End file.
